


Kiss Me Through The Phone

by cristianoronaldo



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, based on a prompt from this prompt website, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David has a radio show. Leo hears his voice, falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me Through The Phone

The first time Leo hears his voice, he's pissed off. It's raining, and the rain is hitting his windshield hard, fast, white like hail but crumbling and melting into liquid the minute it smashes against the glass. He flicks his radio on, and there it is. The voice is reading a poem by a caller and he scoffs a little at the end. There's the sound of static like he put his hand over the microphone in a hurry.

Leo's never heard his show before; he's always woken up too late and never really bothered to tune in at work, but he's heard about it; David Villa with his explosive opinions and his funny little sounds on the other end like he never took anything seriously.

Leo likes him. He likes that he doesn't take things seriously, but flicks the radio off anyway. He walks into work with a paper over his head, but he drops it at the last minute. He smiles when the rain hits his forehead.

\+   
  
From that first day on, Leo listens to Villa's radio program. He's almost late to work, but he likes the feel of the button under his finger when he leaves in the morining. He likes the sound of the bitter chuckle before he shuts it down and goes to work.   
  
Villa rarely talks about politics, but when he does, he's angry about everything. That's one of the things Leo likes most about his show. He doesn't take a side; he hates every side.   
  
He mostly talks about old cars, sports, sometimes music. Leo hates his music. It's all modern and fast, and Leo prefers to listen to soft, slow music that makes him feel like he's falling asleep. He likes the car talk though he doesn't understand most of it. He listens anyway. There's something hypnotic about the voice on the other side.   
  
He listens to the callers for awhile. He tries to judge exactly what Villa likes and what he hates, but it's difficult because he hates everything. Someone calls in about dish towels and Villa hangs up.   
  
\+   
  
It's two or three months later, and Leo calls in. They're talking about sports and Villa gets a fact wrong. Later, Leo doesn't even remember what the fact is, but in that moment, it's the most important fact in the world. He's pulling over and dialing the number (memorized) before he can even think to control his limbs.   
  
"It's 264 games," he said breathlessly to the operator. "He got his facts wrong. It's 264 games--"   
  
"Just so we're clear here, you want to challenge Villa on something?"   
  
He pauses. "Yes."   
  
There's a chuckle, then, "On air in..5....4....3....2....1..."   
  
And then Leo's hearing his voice and it's the most peculiar feeling in the world to hear the voice that had been hypnotizing him for so long right in his ear like it was a personal experience. Leo holds the phone close to his ear like it's God speaking.   
  
"200," he says, then shuts his eyes tight. "I mean, 264. It's 264 games that he's played. Not 246."   
  
There's a long pause, a deep breath, and Leo prepares for Villa (David, Leo thinks, but he doesn't have the privilege of calling him that just yet) to start yelling.   
  
Then, "You're right," he mumbles. "I was wrong. Thanks for calling. Who's this calling in?"   
  
Leo hangs up.   
  
\+   
  
He becomes a constant source of information for the show. Sometimes he thinks David purposely gets facts wrong just to see if Leo is listening. But it must just be his imagination.   
  
Even though thousands of people are sitting in on their call, Leo feels David's voice right in his ear. He thinks of the fast-melting hail from that first day he heard David's voice, and he hopes their "meeting" is just a collision with a delayed reaction. He loves.   
  
"One of these days I'm going to have to find out who my mystery caller is."   
  
"Maybe," Leo replies, and there's a huge smile plastered on his face. 'But if you know who I am, I can't call in anymore."   
  
"Why's that?"   
  
"I just can't." He's well aware that people are sitting in on their call, imagines he can feel their breath down the back of his neck.   
  
"Then don't. Keep it a secret." A long pause. "Your information is invaluable. You keep me on my toes."   
  
\+   
  
It's a year since he started listening to David's show, and Leo has his own little strange anniversary. He eats a bag of chips in the back of his car, stretched out with the door open so his legs are outside. He stares up at the ceiling, wishes he could fall in love with someone right in front of him.   
  
He wishes, not for the first time and certainly not the last, that he could stretch out his fingertips and touch a face, any face, or reach for another hand, or feel a warm body beside him, but it's a lonely existence-- being in love is. It's lonely.   
  
He switches the station and listens to the kind of music he likes because David isn't on at this time anyway, so what's the point. It's a slow, sad song, and Leo falls asleep.   
  
When he wakes up, it's nearly time for work, so he reaches forward and changes the station. David is already awake, talking about his "favorite caller" and how he was notably absent for the "horrendous mistake" and "...". And then Leo realizes David is talking about him, and he scrambles for the phone he kicked to the floor the night before.   
  
"It's me" is all he says to the operator. She sends him through at once with a little sigh.   
  
"Horrendous mistake?" he asks before even saying hello. "I sleep for a few hours and you're already making horrendous mistakes?"   
  
"I was just testing you," David replies, and Leo can hear his smile. He's never seen his smile, but he knows what it sounds like. Knows what David looks like only because he's visited the website. Knows his smile is beautiful, but a smile is an action, never something to distill. Even in a photograph, the only truly beautiful smile is the smile in action, the one that's blurred at the edges because the subject is smiling so hard and moving so quickly.   
  
"Test me now. I was sleeping for your original error."   
  
"I'll need a name first."   
  
Leo makes a sad sound at the back of his throat, but he doesn't hang up. "No can do. How am I supposed to be such a know-it-all if you know it all about me?"   
  
David sighs. "I hate when you're clever. So annoying."   
  
"You hate a lot of things," Leo remarks. He lays back against the seat, lets his feet dangle out the door. It's cold and he's running late, but he doesn't move. David's voice hasn't lost its mesmerizing quality.   
  
"I'm very sensitive about my hatred for many things. Do you think it's annoying that I hate many things?"   
  
Leo is brave behind his mask. "I think it's endearing."   
  
"Endearing? Doesn't that say something about you? Are you the type to romanticize awful situations because I have a feeling I'd be annoyed by that too."   
  
Leo laughs quietly, gently, imagines he laughs and David sees. "Are you annoyed right now?"   
  
"Strangely, no."   
  
"Well." And it's quiet. Leo can hear the listeners breathing down his neck again.   
  
"Well," David replies, and it's like he's forgotten he's on air because a moment later, he coughs into the mic like someone gave him the cue to keep talking. "Commercial break," he says gruffly, and hangs up.   
  
The operator calls Leo back. He wonders why she never used it in the past or why she never told David she'd had Leo's number in the phone all along, but he doesn't mind. Sometimes he would rather live in his head because if he ever met David, his fantasy would be shattered and their love affair destroyed.   
  
But she calls anyway and Leo is thrust into the reality of the situation. "There's an office party," she says without saying hello. Leo coughs to let her know he's listening. "If you bring chips and salsa, you can come." She doesn't sound pleased. "And make sure the salsa isn't mild for god's sake."   
  
"Not mild," he repeats listlessly. "Got it."   
  
"I'll take that as your confirmation."   
  
"Confirmation for what?" he asks, tracing his finger along the tablecloth. He's at home-- he gets distracted when there's crumbs in the cracks between tiles and he's already nervous because she works for David   
  
"The party," she breathes into the phone like she's trying really hard to be sweet but he's getting on her nerves. "David asked me to invite you next time you called, but he's an idiot and he doesn't realize that if you're the last caller, I can just call back."   
  
"Ah, I see."   
  
"So he said to invite you."   
  
"Me?"   
  
"Yeah, you. His little know-it-all."   
  
Leo peeks into his bedroom, eyes his messy closet. "When is it again?"   
  
\+   
  
He manages to avoid David for the first hour of the party. He brings the chips, but forgets the salsa on his kitchen counter. The operator greets him first. She's wearing a light pink dress, and she looks nice in it, but she looks like she doesn't feel good in it. Leo averts his eyes like her lack of confidence is too personal, and she glares.   
  
"Well, ready to meet him or what?"   
  
But Leo offers to set down the chips first because he's nervous, and she rolls her eyes, lets him wander around. She straightens her dress and doesn't notice her coworker staring at her with soft eyes, a gentle smile, a look that seems to glow.   
  
Leo watches the chips, vaguely worries that no one will eat them because an outsider brought them, and then he wrings his hands together and contemplates what a wreck he is because he's worrying about chips.   
  
He sees David across the room, but he can't bear to see the disappointment in David's eyes when he sees that Leo is just Leo. Nothing special, just a lonely, normal, real person with a real job and a voice that doesn't hypnotize.   
  
He catches David's eye and David freezes, looks him over, his lips start to tilt upwards, eyes widening slightly, but Leo turns away and grabs a chip. He stuffs one in his mouth and forces himself to think about all the Extra Hot salsa just sitting on his counter. Can salsa go bad?   
  
He feels a hand on his shoulder and he whips around to find himself face to face with the man behind the voice. His heart is beating out of his chest and he swallows hard.   
  
"Hey," he manages. "I'm Leo. Your caller." Your caller, he says like the words are a mark of David's ownership.   
  
"I know," David answers, and his voice is quieter than it is on the radio. He seems more soft-spoken than he does in the pictures. His eyes aren't that sharp; his lips are softer, pinker. "I've been waiting to meet you."   
  
Leo smiles, gestures to the chips, grins again, stupidly. "I brought these," he says, like it's an incredible accomplishment. "But I forgot the salsa."   
  
"You're a failure," David deadpans. "Your salsa was your ticket in. Without it, you are nothing to me."   
  
Leo stifles a laugh and his cheeks turn red. David fidgets with his collar.

"You should know that--" David starts just as Leo begins with "Your voice--" And they both laugh; Leo gestures for David to pick up where he left off.

"You should know," he says hesitantly, biting his lip, "that your calls were." He stops like that's enough. "There's a reason you're here," he finishes finally, like the reason doesn't matter. It just matters that a reason exists.

Leo nods. Color floods his cheeks again, a whole new wave of emotion washing over him, painting him the color of David's influence. "Your voice was like a spell," he says finally, and he shakes his head, immediately regretting his words.

"Good," David replies before Leo can take it back. He sounds confident, but when Leo looks up, he's fidgeting with his collar again and his hands are shaking. He reaches up to brush his hair back from his face with an unsure expression. "I'm angry about a lot of things on that program. Everything I hear fuels my anger more and I just become this whirlwind of negativity and hatred and bitterness, but when you called, it was like I could step outside of myself for a little while."

"But I don't want you to do that," Leo says plainly, honestly. "I don't want you to step out of yourself because it's you. You," he says with some difficulty. "Your voice, not someone else's."

David blushes, nods like he understands something for the first time. He takes a chip and they talk for hours on end. They're smiling by the end of it, and then David invites him out to his car.

They're laying on their backs with their feet sticking out the door, dangling in the cool air. David's playing his music, and Leo is muttering in his ear about how the slow songs are much better, and he can feel David's warmth against his chest. His fantasy is tangible.


End file.
